


in these arms

by herwhiteknight



Series: yours, mine and ours [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Vulnerability, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, OT5, Romantic Fluff, tagging the ships for this is Hell bc apparently ao3 doesn't have their ot5 tag listed kshfskh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herwhiteknight/pseuds/herwhiteknight
Summary: She wants to trust these arms. They circle her, arms low on her waist from behind, a right and a left around her shoulder from either side. Arms that are tucked underneath one another and resting on her chest. They're all gentle. And they're all quiet.It scares her, this quiet.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Ilia Amitola/Blake Belladona/Pyrrha Nikos/Yang Xiao Long, Ilia Amitola/Blake Belladonna, Ilia Amitola/Pyrrha Nikos, Ilia Amitola/Weiss Schnee
Series: yours, mine and ours [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1193347
Kudos: 33





	in these arms

There's fear, in these arms. So much of it - and it's all spilling out of her chest. At least it's not coming out of her eyes. Not yet. Not soon. Not ever, she hopes.

She wants to trust these arms. They circle her, arms low on her waist from behind, a right and a left around her shoulder from either side. Arms that are tucked underneath one another and resting on her chest. They're all gentle. And they're all quiet.

It scares her, this quiet. 

Quiet had always been how she hid before - in shadows and darkness and camouflage. It used to be safe, secure. It made her undetectable.

She's out in the open, here - in these arms. Out in the open and she's never been more closely surrounded. There's no escape. 

(Even though she knows she doesn't want to leave, the thought of being left without a way out _haunts_ her.)

"What is _wrong_ with me?" she collapses, doesn't mean to speak. 

"Ilia, love," the arms around her waist, the ones circling her from behind, murmur gently. _Pyrrha_. "What's wrong?"

No one else speaks, but in turn - the embrace of them all draws inward, tightens. But she's not afraid, not exactly. Because she knows their touch - even if it hasn't been that long of their lives together. They're careful, knowing how fragile she is sometimes, knowing the need to be slow and steady and impossibly understanding.

Ilia takes in a deep breath, slow. Slow. Focuses on their touch one at a time. Behind her, kissing her neck softly, Pyrrha. To her right, Yang. Her arm is draped ever so casually over Weiss, who is curled up in the smallest of ways against Ilia's chest. To the untrained eye, she seems like she may have fallen asleep - but Ilia knows that she's listening to the beat of her heart.

"Ilia," the last voice calls, the woman to her left. Her best friend. The girl who taught her what love was. The one she'd hurt the most. The one who found her way back.

Blake.

" _I'm sorry,"_ she chokes out, undone by her name falling from Blake's lips alone. "I… shouldn't be…. I'm not…"

And there they begin, tears. Falling. Her _not ever_ becoming _now_ \- and with the falling comes the rising. Fear. Fear. _Fear._

_They'll see your weakness. They'll leave. Don't they always?_

It's why she always left. Forged her own path. If she left her old lives behind, she would never be left. It was all her choice alone.

But no one moves. Except for Weiss who shifts up on Ilia's lap and presses a feathersoft kiss to the tear tracks that are already coursing down her cheeks.

"We're here, baby," she murmurs. It's echoed around the circle, more kisses pressing against her skin as an affirmation.

Ilia closes her eyes and focuses. _Focuses_. She feels each soft press of their lips on her skin, four different kinds of kisses. Memorizes them. Pyrrha's are gentle, impossibly soft, sure yet shy. Yang's are warm. Fire, passion, the kind that sears across skin. Weiss' are demure, chaste but intentional and deliberate, each placed with a reason.

And Blake's… they are promises. The way they've always been, somehow heated and passionate yet intentional. 

All of them are filled with indescribable, overwhelming love.

"We aren't going anywhere, darling," Pyrrha says, squeezing her waist gently as she lifts her hand to tuck some of Ilia's hair behind her ear.

Ilia doesn't have the strength to reply. But, somehow, she knows deep down that they would say she doesn't need to be strong all the time. And certainly not right now. So she just nods. Drops her head against Pyrrha's chest. 

And lets herself be held by the arms of the women who love her most.


End file.
